


A Matter Of Circumstance

by Ironkhaleesi



Series: Little Sister!Reader Incest - Marvel/Supernatural/Sherlock/Vikings/The Originals/Game of Thrones/Teen Wolf/King Arthur: Legend of the Sword [25]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fingering, Incest, Smut, blowjob, oral (male receiving)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16018751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironkhaleesi/pseuds/Ironkhaleesi
Summary: After a night of blood and violence, Frank comes home to you, wishing he could give you a better life.





	A Matter Of Circumstance

He tried to clean himself up before he went home to you. The bullet was out of his shoulder at least, but the bathroom at the train station was low on paper towels. No establishment was going to let him in to clean up. They all locked their doors the moment they saw his face.

So, home it was. Bloodied and beaten. It’s what progress looked like. At least that’s what he told you to keep you from worrying. Not that it worked. You were his baby sister. Fearing for his safety was second nature to you.

He was damn near silent when he walked into the small apartment. It was barely big enough for one person let alone two. You deserved so much better. He wanted to give you better. But you never complained. Not once.

He took only a moment to stare down at your sleeping form, sprawled out in the middle of your shared bed. Even as a snot-nosed kid you’d stolen all the sheets. It had pissed Frank off until your parents tried to separate you.

“You’re too old to be sleeping in the same bed,” they’d said.

Frank promised God he’d never complain about you stealing the sheets again if he just kept the two of you together. He didn’t get his wish until you were both adults, but he kept his promise.

Waking you was the last thing he wanted to do. At least until he was cleaned up and relatively healthy looking. But it’s like you were hardwired to feel his presence whenever he got close. He watched you for all of five seconds before you let out a sigh and shifted beneath the sheets.

Brow furrowed and eyes still closed, you murmured his name. Like it was a fucking prayer – it had the power to rip his lungs out.

There’d been a reason your parents had tried to separate the two of you. Frank had always been a little fucked up in the head. War had just made that obvious. Pulled his flaws to the surface. But make no mistake, they’d always been there.

The moment you were born, three-year-old Frank had been obsessed with you. It was cute at first. Just a little boy bonding with his baby sister. Then you got older. The novelty wore off. And the first boyfriend ended up in hospital with a shattered skull for no reason other than the kid kissed in front of Frank.

There was a blank hole where that memory should’ve been. He remembered the kid’s lips touching you. Remembered his chest filling with fire. Then he woke up and there was blood everywhere. A bloodied mass of flesh beneath him that gurgled and groaned.

It was then people started to realise that Frank’s obsession was pathological. Borderline psychopathic.

You didn’t date after that. Didn’t even talk to boys. He didn’t demand that of you. Shame had pushed him to try and find a nice boy for you to be with, but you turned them all away. Something had changed in you the day you watched Frank beat your boyfriend half to death.

It wasn’t until later in life that he remembered that. Not that you’d changed, but that you’d watched. You never even screamed. Never called for help. You just stood there and watched the blood splatter your big brother’s face. Then you pulled him to his feet, took him back to the house and cleaned him up.

“It’s okay,” you had whispered as he stared at his shaking, broken hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Frankie. He attacked me. You were just protecting your baby sister.”

You ruined a young boy’s life to protect Frank. Didn’t even blink an eye. He accepted that easily, and in the end, that’s what terrified him the most. This destructive, twisted love that the two of you had for each other. He was impulsive and violent. You were enabling and manipulative.

So, when the opportunity came up for him to be a Marine, he took it without question. You never completely forgave him for that. He never completely forgave himself. He started a family. You tried to start one with Billy.

On the outside it was perfect. But behind the scenes … truth was, the moment you and Frank started speaking again, was the moment the shit hit the fan. Maria never discovered the truth before she died, but Billy had the bad luck of walking into your apartment while Frank had you bent over the back of the couch.

You’d been fucking each other behind everyone’s backs for years. Frank often wondered if that’s what finally pushed Billy over the edge. The saving grace was that the two of them were best friends. If they hadn’t been … one of them wouldn’t have left the building alive that day.

What made it worse is, Frank knew Billy was going to be there that day. He knew what time, too. The guy was head over heels for you. Wanted to surprise you for your five-year anniversary. You’d tried to end it with Frank that morning. You loved your brother, but you also loved Billy. You wanted a shot at having the life Frank had with Maria. Billy would’ve given it to you.

That tipped Frank over the edge. It was painful enough to know you went to bed with his best friend most nights, but to know you might actually love the guy … it was too much for him to take. He went to your apartment. The two of you fought. He knew Billy was going to show so he buttered you up – asked to be together one last time.

He knew if you and Billy ended, you’d go back to Frank. He hated himself for doing it. But as he stared down at you now … he knew he’d do it all again.

The need to crawl into bed with you, touch you, was near debilitating. The thought of getting blood all over the sheets – all over you – kept him in check.

You rubbed your eyes and murmured his name again, squinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, baby girl. It’s me,” he said.

You pushed up onto your elbows. “I smell blood.”

He stepped back from the bed and headed into the small bathroom. “I’m okay.”

He debated not turning on the light, but he needed to see. You sucked in a breath when you saw the cuts and dried blood all over him. “Frankie … you’re not okay.”

“I will be. Don’t –” Too late. You were already shooting out of bed towards him to inspect the arm he held stiff.

“Stop growling,” you snapped as you pulled off the rest of the sleeve he’d torn to get to the bullet wound.

He didn’t realise he had been until you said it. “I got it out. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. Look at you. When is this going to stop, Frank, huh? When am I going to stop waking up in the middle of the night to find you gone?”

“When you’re safe.”

“That’s bullshit,” you said as you tugged at the straps of his vest. “You’re not doing this for me.”

“Everything I do is for you,” he growled.

Your jaw tightened. The control you held onto was undeniable as you focused on cleaning your brother up. He felt his heart melt. His irritation dissipate.

“Baby girl …” He smoothed a hand over the back of your hand. “Look at me.”

Stubbornness dictated you make him wait before you did what he asked. But when you did, there was nothing but patience in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that this isn’t the life you wanted. I’m sorry that I can’t give you –”

“Frankie, stop,” you said as you cupped his face in your hands. “All I want is you. I just want you to be safe and happy.” 

Sad eyes were all he could see in your face, and he hated that he put them there. Forehead pressed to yours, he took your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted your face up to his. He meant for the kiss to be chaste, so he didn’t sully you with the grime that still covered him. But you had other intentions.

Your kiss was as fierce as your love for him. Seared him as deeply as your temper. A growl escaped him, and he felt dazed when you finally pulled back. His face lax as he waited to see what you’d do with him next.

“Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You moved to the shower and he watched you the same way a dog watches its owner. Dutiful. Loyal. Like you were his entire world.

His body ached when you finally got him under the hot spray of water, but he gladly braved it as you undressed and got in with him. Skin hypersensitive to your touch as you massaged soap onto his body and head. If he was a cat, he might’ve fucking purred.

The shoulder was still painful, but he could straighten the arm now and had minimal movement in it. The bullet didn’t hit anything important.

When he was clean, he turned you beneath the spray, his cock at half-mast as you tilted your head back and closed your eyes. Mesmerised was the best way to describe what he felt as he watched the rivulets of water stream down your neck. Catching on your hard nipples. Disappearing between your thighs.

Sliding an arm around your back to keep you close, he traced one of those rivulets back up your neck with his tongue and sucked your earlobe into his mouth. You sighed, hands clinging to his biceps.

“I’ve been missing you all day,” he murmured against your face before nipping your cheekbone.

He chased another rivulet down your jaw, neck and sternum. You tasted so clean and sweet. He wanted to take a bite out of you.

“Frankie,” you moaned out when he sucked a hard nipple into his mouth. Slurping at your flesh and biting down on a mouthful of it.

He growled against you, the vibrations stroking a path from your nipple to your dampening cunt. The next one got a more aggressive treatment. And his arm tightened around you when your nails dug into his arms.

With a wet suck, he pulled away from your nipple. “Love it when your body sings for me.”

Hard and thick, he jutted out. Prodding at your stomach. You licked a line along his collarbone. Stretched up to bite his ear. “Let me take care of you.”

He grunted. Let his hands glide up your body as you slid to your knees in front of him. His mouth dropped open when you took the head of him into the hot velvet of your mouth. You tilted your head up to he could see your face, but you had to close your eyes against the spray of water.

He braced his good arm against the back of the shower. Curved his body over yours so the spray hit the back of his head and shoulders instead. You wiped the water from your eyes, letting him slide from your mouth so you could smile up at him in thanks.

The wound in his shoulder twinged when he cupped your face, but he could give two shits about that. Especially when you kissed the pad of his thumb as it swiped over your bottom lip. You were so damn beautiful to him.

You took him in your hands and opened your mouth. In a sensual show, you let the head of him rest on your tongue and bobbed your head shallowly – keeping your mouth open so he could watch your tongue work him.

After his cock jumped a few times, you slurped up the water that ran down his shaft before sucking one of his balls into your mouth. Your hand jerking him. He cupped his hand against the crown of your head but didn’t dream of forcing you anywhere.

“Why you gotta tease me like that?” he said, voice husky with pleasure.

You let his ball go with a wet pop that made his toes curl and his cock twitch. “Watching you come undone makes me wet.”

A whine bounced off the shower walls, and it wasn’t until you grinned up at him that he realised the sound had come from his own throat. “You wet now, baby girl?” With his cock half-way down your throat, you mumbled an affirmative. “Show me.”

He gritted his teeth against the hot grip of your mouth and watched as you slipped a hand between your legs. Vibrations of a groan travelled down his cock, then you were lifting your hand to show him the slick that webbed between two of your fingers.

With a growl, he leant down and sucked them into his mouth. Hips jerking as you took him all the way down your throat.

“Keep playing with yourself,” he said on a pant, hand fisting in your hair. “That’s it, baby. Fuck. You’re so good. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

You pressed your hand over the one in your hair and pushed. Showing him what you wanted. Keeping his head bowed to block the water, he took yours in both his hands – hold gentle and loose – and began thrusting down your throat.

The garbled, wet sounds that came from your mouth had his toes curling again and his balls tightening. He thrust faster. Could feel his body swelling as rough moans tumbled from his mouth. The moment you pressed against his hip, he let your head slide from his hands. They fisted with the need to push you back down, but you rewarded the courtesy by fisting his saliva-slicked cock in your hand and jerking it rapidly.

His eyes closed, his head fell back. “Oh, fuck. Just like that. Baby girl … you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up.”

You let out a pleasured whine of your own. Frank caught the sloppy sounds of your cunt as your fingers moved faster, then his cock was back down your throat and you vigorously fucked him with it.

His orgasm was a surprise. And he didn’t know if it was the wet sounds of your body or your enthusiasm, but it felt like it was torn from his damn soul. His shout bounced off the walls. One hand caught him on the back of the shower when he tipped forward, the other fisted in your hair as he jerked with every rope of cum that shot down your throat.

You were slow to let him slide out. Sucked and lapped at him as he throbbed. The most exquisite torture he’d ever experienced. With a grunt of pain, he slipped his hands under your arms and lifted you to your feet.

“Frank –”

He silenced you with a wet kiss. Tongue pushing into your mouth and sliding along yours. Ignoring the twinges in his shoulder, he fitted a hand behind your knee and jerked your leg up until you rested a foot on the glass wall behind him.

“Get yourself soaking for me, baby?” he murmured against your lips, hand slipping between your thighs.

You sucked in a breath when the rough pads of his fingertips pressed against your clit. “Please, Frankie. I want them inside me.”

“Yeah? Like this?” He pushed two thick fingers inside you, curling them tight against your front wall.

Your head fell back against the wall and you let out a long moan, hands scrabbling for purchase against the tiles and glass. He kept his strokes deep and slow, his other hand coming up to stroke your clit. Your walls quivered around him. High, breathy noises spilling from your mouth as you rolled your hips against his hand.

“There you go, sweetheart. So hungry for me. You gonna cum? Gonna be good?”

He didn’t change the speed of his strokes as you convulsed around him. He let the orgasm build slowly and wash through you. Then the moment you caught your breath he fucked his fingers into like they were his cock and he was pounding you into the mattress.

Your body jolted, nails dug into his arms as you wrestled with the simultaneous need to push him away and pull him back in. His chest vibrated with his growls and grunts. “One more, baby girl.”

The second orgasm was quick and hard. Your foot slipped from the glass and you fell against him. He caught you around the waist, pressing kisses against your head as he turned the water off and stroked your quivering flesh.

You sighed when he finally manoeuvred you out of the shower and into a towel. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I’ll bet you are,” he chuckled, shutting off the bathroom light.

He guided you back to the bed, groaning as he lowered himself down on it.

“Frank –”

“I’m fine, baby girl.” And he was. He had to admit, much of the groaning and grunting was a little put on. He loved it when you fussed over him. “Just lie down with me. It’ll make me feel better.”

“That’s not how it works,” you grumbled. But you lied down anyway. Resting your head on his uninjured shoulder and throwing your leg over his.

“It does with you,” he said, stroking his fingers through your damp hair. “You got some magic fingers on you.”

He could hear the smile in your voice when you said, “You mean a magic mouth.”

Snorting with laughter, he squeezed you against him. A sick part of him was glad Maria wasn’t around anymore. It made him feel guilty as fuck to think it. But when she was alive, you were just his dirty little secret. A woman he could never go home to.

Now you were his home.


End file.
